The Pain Colony

by Shanon Hunt

  His mouth turned upward in a sly smile. “However, should there be someone out there with whom you’d like to share your life, you certainly have my blessing.”

  Chapter 87

  Austin wanted to throw his phone against the stucco wall of the juvenile center, which he was just getting ready to tour with the investors when he received the call from security.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and addressed the group, who’d stopped to admire the outdoor playground. “Folks, I need to step away for a few moments, but Madeline has just rejoined us, and she’ll escort you back to the center for brunch. I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”

  “Coast is clear,” Madeline murmured as she passed him.

  Her unwavering composure made him want to slap her. He turned abruptly and stalked back toward the gateway.

  “Bradley James Fucking Elliott,” he muttered under his breath.

  This whole thing was Brad’s fault. Austin hadn’t wanted Allison here in the first place. He’d have been more than happy to let her fall into the cumbersome claws of the justice system, tying her up in legal defense for a year. And goddammit, that strategy was an important piece of the puzzle. The FBI needed to identify a conspirator in order to lose interest in him.

  But Brad wanted Allison, and he needed Brad. At least a while longer.

  Frankly, he couldn’t understand Brad’s infatuation with Allison Stevens. With his boyish good looks and high position at the Colony, he could have had any woman he wanted. What could he possibly see in that mousy little bitch? She was a bore, a tiresome homebody always on the verge of an emotional breakdown. And if she’d just minded her own fucking business, this all could’ve happened later, after the FBI had roughed her up some more and she’d had one of her famous meltdowns. If only they could’ve swooped in just before sentencing; she’d have been much more malleable.

  He quickened his pace across the courtyard. No flurry of activity. It was a typical, dull day at the Colony, which for once he was happy about. He glanced at his phone. No messages. They hadn’t found her yet. Goddammit.

  Admittedly, he hadn’t expected this much fight from her. He knew she wouldn’t be an easy sell, but he’d been certain she’d fall in line, given her options. This defiance, however, was unacceptable. Even Brad would have to admit that her behavior couldn’t be tolerated. Now she’d have to be eliminated. What a waste of all that investment.

  His phone vibrated. “What?”

  “Sir, we haven’t located Allison Stevens yet, but one of the perimeter guards thought he might have seen someone running near the service gate.”

  “Pull video from that whole area and increase security over there. If anyone catches sight of her, take her out.”

  “Sir?”

  “Shoot her.”

  He ended the call.

  Chapter 88

  “What did you say?” Malloy shook his head, disbelieving.

  “Hundreds of people.” Garcia repeated. “It looks like a cult. And they look young. Like kids, almost. Like Tyler’s age. I’m telling you, this is where he was. He wasn’t in that wellness center. This is where they kept him. Behind these walls, like a fucking prisoner.”

  Malloy had to see for himself. Garcia wasn’t really known to exaggerate—but hundreds? Certainly that was way too many to be employed at the Vitapura.

  He plodded through the sagebrush, making his way back toward the gate.

  “Boss, we need to call for backup.”

  “Not yet. Just let me see.” He needed to know if Garcia was right. He needed to see if this was where Tyler had been held, if this is where they took young kids and did experiments on them, destroying their brains, killing them, and leaving them to die in a dumpster. He tried to pick up his pace, but his legs just wouldn’t go faster. His felt light-headed partly because of the heat but mostly because he felt on the verge of the answer to the question he’d been asking himself every single day since the day he’d learned of Tyler’s death.

  “The gate is guarded. If this is something illegal, they’ll be packin’.”

  Malloy didn’t care.

  “Fuck.” Garcia moved in next to him.

  Chapter 89

  Allison stood breathless with her back against the shed door. She was trapped. She knew it had been a dumb move, running into a building barely bigger than a closet, but she knew the guards had seen her, half skipping and half hobbling in the bulky medical boot. She just needed a minute to catch her breath and come up with a plan.

  Sweat fell from her hair and stung her eyes. She wiped it away and peered through the narrow air vent. There it was, the gate she’d been unable to find while she was running, maybe a hundred yards away. She wondered if she could squeeze between the iron bars.

  She looked around the shed for a place to hide, but the shelving offered not even the smallest concealed corner. Boxes and plastic containers lined the shelves, and she tore through them, looking for anything she might be able to brandish as a weapon. Anything that might at least buy her a couple of seconds. All she found were bundles of laundered clothing, towels, dishcloths, and bedsheets. So much white. What was their obsession with white? She yanked boxes and bundles off the shelves, uttering satisfied grunts as their impact with the gravel floor sent dust flying, coating the fancy-schmancy spa bedding.

  She’d hurled the last bundle before she noticed a box, colorfully illustrated, that didn’t belong there. Some poor delivery driver must have stashed it here for fear of getting fired for bringing poisoned world contraband inside the walls. She picked it up by the metal handle. It was lighter than she expected. She ran her finger around the metal lid. The hinge squeaked as she opened the latch. Empty.

  Voices came from outside the shed. Shit. She dropped to her knees and lay the open box on the ground beside her. She had an idea. It wasn’t a very good plan, but it was all she had.

  Chapter 90

  Austin’s eyes darted across the security monitors.

  “Go back five minutes.”

  The staffer’s fingers flew over the keys of the single keyboard that controlled all twenty-four monitors in the security room. Austin scanned the screens looking for atypical activity. Where was the little bitch? The whole damn security detail dressed in the same cozy whites as everyone else—Brad’s mind-fuckingly idiotic idea. Now they could only recognize their own staff by the way they moved expeditiously around the grounds.

  “There!” he yelled. “Did you see that? Back up again.”

  The staffer started the video replay again. “The linen supply,” he confirmed.

  “Alert me if you see her leave the shed.” Austin grabbed a walkie-talkie and bolted from the room.

  And of all the goddamn days for cops to show up and want to poke around. He couldn’t believe his bad luck. But now the situation would be contained and additional collateral damage avoided. He tried to calm himself with a deep breath.

  Not that it meant he wouldn’t be getting another lecture from Hammond. He’d put his own ass on the line with Hammond, all for Brad’s obsession with the whore, and now he’d surely pay for it. But he’d sure as hell make Brad pay right along with him. Wait until Hammond learned this whole thing was Brad’s doing.

  He plastered a hard smile on his face and waved to the inductees as he walked with purpose along the path. They didn’t know him, thankfully, and he was able to move along without the obligatory hugs. Fucking Brad—or rather Brother James, another infuriating Colony custom—and all the goddamn hugging. Brad was a genius, that part was true, but catering to these lowlife assholes was nonsensical. For god’s sake, these losers were lab rats. They didn’t need the life Brad was giving them. A hundred thousand here, a quarter million there. Organic food, pillow-top mattresses. A new goddamn gym. What the hell was wrong with the old gym?

  His pulse picked up as he neared the shed. He’d drag her out of there by her hair and hold her down so the guard could put a perfect bullet hole between those dopey eyes. He couldn’t wait to
deliver the news of Allison Stevens’s unfortunate demise. He could practically hear Brad’s heart breaking right in half.

  Chapter 91

  Malloy kept his eyes on the cameras above the gate and pressed his body against the wall to stay out of their range. He leaned around just barely enough to see through the bars of the gate. At that angle, he could see a dozen or so people dressed in the eerie white pajamas. They were walking, some alone, some in groups. He leaned a bit further and saw a large building with people going in and out.

  Garcia was right about one thing: They all seemed to be young people. But he didn’t see hundreds of them, maybe a dozen or so. He noticed an empty chair on the other side of the gate, with several empty bottles of water beside it. The guard had to be taking a piss.

  A band of tightness snugged around his chest. Now would not be a good time for a heart attack. Come for a jog, Pete, Darcy was always nagging him. You’re gonna be dead before you’re sixty.

  He moved out of his hidden position and stood fully in front of the gate. He couldn’t see a goddamn thing behind the two large buildings on either side of the road.

  Garcia moved to the other side of the gate and gestured frantically. “Boss. Here.”

  Malloy moved next to him, and his view opened to what looked like a grassy field with trees off in the distance. It looked like paradise in the desert, even more beautiful than the grounds at the wellness center.

  And people everywhere. Hundreds of people.

  His phone vibrated for the hundredth time. Goddammit.

  “John, this is not a good time. I’m in the middle—”

  “Pete. Listen to me. You need to leave right now. Get in your car, and drive away. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  Malloy’s eyes shot up to the security cameras. Did Cramer know where he was?

  “Pete. Just turn and walk away.”

  “Excuse me, this area is for service vehicles only,” a man said, approaching the gate from the inside. He wore the white pajamas too, and Malloy didn’t see any sign of a weapon. “Are you looking for the wellness center main entrance? I’ll be happy to direct you.”

  “Pete. Can you hear me? You don’t know—”

  Malloy disconnected the phone and reached for his badge.

  Chapter 92

  The voices didn’t seem to be getting closer, but Allison’s time was running out. She untied the dust-covered medical boot. It was slowing her significantly with its rigid support, and she needed ankle mobility to dodge anyone who tried to grab her. She unwound the elastic wrap from her foot and ankle and quickly rewrapped it, tighter around her foot, looser around her ankle. Her breath came fast and hard as sweat dripped off her hair and pooled in the gravel beneath her.

  She wasn’t worried about the pain. She’d once finished third in a 5K with a pulled hamstring; she could certainly run a hundred yards on a broken foot. But she knew she’d make it worse.

  She stood up and surveyed the gate again. Two men stood just outside the gate, talking with a guard. She wiped the sweat from her eyes with the backs of her dirt-caked hands and squinted for a better look. The cops! She was sure of it. She couldn’t see their faces, but that long, straight black hair… It had to be that DEA guy. Excited, she groped for the door handle just as a walkie-talkie blatted right outside the shed door.

  Shit. She retreated two steps. If the guard came in, he’d close the door and silence her until the cops were gone. If she wanted to make a run for it, she had to get past him first. It was back to Plan A.

  She knelt down on the ground and waited, panting, her right hand gripping the handle of the box.

  Chapter 93

  Austin rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Fuck.”

  Those cops hadn’t left the grounds after all. Why hadn’t security informed him? Goddammit, this day was turning into complete shit.

  He turned the dial on the walkie-talkie and spoke in low voice. “Call off the search for Allison. I need all guards away from the service gate. Keep a visual on the shed.”

  He moved cautiously along the outer wall of the cafeteria until he had no further cover. Then he moved slowly along the path, with his head bowed slightly toward the gate. He could hear voices but couldn’t make out the conversation. Presumably, the guard at the gate was explaining that all inquiries about the wellness center must be handled at the front gate.

  Remain calm and smile—and under no circumstances, even if a warrant is presented, is the gate to be opened.

  Sticking to the stone path, Austin turned left and headed toward the linen shed. He’d step inside like he was on a routine errand, pull Allison to the floor, and cover her mouth until the coast was clear. With any luck, he’d suffocate her during the wait.

  A scant few yards from the shed, his walkie-talkie hissed. He winced and turned the dial to silence it. He shot a furtive glance at the cops. They seemed to be in a heated conversation with the guard, but the gate was staying closed, per protocol.

  He stepped to the shed door and turned the handle.

  Chapter 94

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  Allison held her breath.

  The door opened, and one shoe stepped through the door. As soon as she saw the second, she stood up and with a mighty grunt, swung the heavy box as hard as she could at the side of her assailant’s head.

  She’d underestimated her momentum and the weight of the box. It struck his right temple with such force that the box burst open, spraying gravel, dirt, and rocks across the shed like bullets. He crumpled face down onto the ground. She glanced to make sure he wasn’t moving, then carefully stepped over him and was reaching for the door when she saw the blood.

  Thick, dark blood was pooling beneath his head, seeping into the gravel beneath him.

  Her body shook violently.

  Oh my god. She’d killed him. Killed him.

  She looked over at the dented lunch box, splayed open in the gravel. Scooby-Doo and his smiling gang were now savagely doused in scarlet. She froze, unable to help the man who lay bleeding yet unable to make a break toward the police at the gate.

  Something warm and wet touched her toes. Her white elastic bandage was wicking blood from the ground. Blood splattered her white clothes like the first swing of Pollock’s paintbrush across a fresh canvas. The crimson pool beneath the man continued to expand, now soaking into the white bed linens that lay strewn on the ground. She stood mesmerized, watching the blood soak into his crisp white dress shirt and spread down the sleeves toward his wrists and—

  No. No, no, no.

  The gold cufflinks. Her gift to him on their one-year anniversary of dating.

  Engraved with AH.

  Bile filled her throat, and she heaved. She stumbled out the door to vomit, but nothing came up. She turned back, desperately wanting to believe it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

  Oh god. Austin. Oh god.

  She staggered out of the shed. Sweat and tears burned her eyes, and she couldn’t see the gate.

  “Help me, please! Help me! My name is Allison Stevens.” She wiped her eyes with her dirty hands, which only intensified the burning. She moved toward the gate as fast as she could.

  “I’m being held here! My name is Allison Stevens!”

  She heard yelling. She blinked several times, and new tears cleared her vision somewhat. She’d closed half the distance.

  The young cop took a step back and pulled a firearm, holding it out in front of him.

  Something tripped her and she fell hard, sprawling with her hands in front of her, her face in the dirt. She sputtered and started to get up, but the weight of another body pancaked her to the ground. A hand ground her head into the dirt as her wrists were cuffed behind her back. She listened for a gunshot but heard nothing.

  And then everything went black.

  Chapter 95

  Malloy swung around at the cries of a woman, who was running toward them. What had she shouted? All
ison Stevens?

  Garcia had heard it, too. He took a step back and pulled his gun.

  “Open the gate!” Garcia shouted, his Glock 21 trained on the guard.

  Oh, Jesus.

  The guard held his hands up, palms forward. “Don’t shoot!”

  “Open the motherfucking gate!”

  “Put the gun down, Garcia.” Malloy tried to keep his voice steady as he observed the takedown of the woman. The calculated movements of the two men who tackled her told him they were no mall cops. These men had military training.

  “I’m gonna open the gate. Don’t shoot.” The guard moved cautiously toward them, his palms still facing forward.

  “Garcia, lower your weapon,” Malloy growled. “Do it right now.”

  Malloy wasn’t interested in the gate guard. He was, however, very concerned about the group of men flanking them. Six, maybe? Seven? They stayed in a tight group as they edged toward the gate, and they didn’t have the look of curious bystanders.

  “Okay, okay, I’m opening the gate,” the guard repeated loudly as he advanced.

  Instead of reaching for the keypad, the guard took two quick, deliberate steps backward. Malloy’s mouth went dry, and he lunged toward Garcia just as he heard the single, sharp report. Garcia crumpled to the ground in a single motion, like his body had no bones.

  Garcia. Jesus! No. God, no.

  He didn’t need to look closer to know what had happened. The high-caliber bullet had exited the back of his head in a spray of blood and bone. Garcia was dead before he hit the ground.